


Under the Boardwalk

by Meredydd



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-01
Updated: 2011-09-01
Packaged: 2017-10-23 08:24:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/248229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meredydd/pseuds/Meredydd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for Summer of Sherlock at the Sherlockmas community  Molly and Lestrade visit a boardwalk while on vacation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Under the Boardwalk

**Author's Note:**

> Not a part of my Catch Me If You Can 'verse but still Molly/Lestrade!

_Maybe,_ Greg thought as he watched Molly throw brightly colored balls at stacks of metal milk bottles, _this trip was a bad idea._ To be fair, he hadn’t put up an argument when she suggested it but conversely, she had failed to mention that her cousin’s wedding was to be held in New Jersey, in the middle of July. So not only was he to meet her family, he was to meet her family during their first vacation as a couple, and overseas trip at that, and in weather that was, as a girl on the plane had complained, ‘hot as Satan’s arsehole.’

“Come on,” Molly called, laughter tinging her voice, making Greg snap out of his sweat-soaked reverie. “I’m for some faerie floss. Er, cotton candy, they call it here.” She had a large purple rabbit tucked under one arm and an odd crown made of bright plastic flowers on her head. Seeing the direction of his gaze, she grinned even more widely. “They light up!” She pushed one of the blossoms and, sure enough, tiny LED lights popped to life, wreathing her head like some demented faerie.

“I think I’d rather get a beer and find somewhere to sit,” Greg admitted as she tugged him along the boardwalk. “How can you stand the heat? I’m dying!”

She slowed her steps and frowned. “You’ve been pretty miserable since we landed, haven’t you?”

He hesitated, then sighed. “Not miserable, Mols. Just...tense. Your family’s great--loud, and very...floral, but great.” Her cousins and aunts all bore the names of flowers, trees and plants, making Greg feel very out of place in a primary school sort of way. “I suppose I’m just too old to enjoy this boardwalk thing.”

Molly frowned. The boardwalk had been one of the things she’d been most looking forward to, right after the wedding itself and meeting her new niece. She had wonderful memories of coming there as a teenager during the summers, of playing the cheesy old games and riding the roller coaster and eating far too much faerie floss and too many hot dogs. She had told Greg all about those trips but, she realized, looking back on their conversations, he never seemed as interested as she had hoped he would be. “You’re only seven years older than me,” she said finally. “You’re not too old.”

“Not for you,” he chuckled, “but I don’t think lobbing balls to win chancy-looking plush rabbits is really my speed.”

Molly felt a spike of irritation and firmly tamped it down as she turned to lean on the railing overlooking the shore. “This is the third day we’ve come out here. You could’ve told me two days ago, Greg.”

“You were having fun.”

“Well, now it’s retroactively unfun.” She didn’t have to look to see the amused expression on his face. “We’re stuck here till Peony comes to pick us up at nine so--” she paused, an idea suddenly bursting to life in her thoughts. “You don’t like the rides, you think the games are cheesy...”

“Um, right.”

“Well, there’s one more thing people do at a boardwalk that I think you’ll like. It’s something I never got the chance to do when I used to visit as a teenager.” She grinned impishly and grabbed his hand. “Come on!”

Greg nearly tripped over his own feet trying to keep up with Molly as she wove in and out of the crowds of people dotting the boardwalk. “Mols, wait up! I’m wearing these goddamned sandal things!”

“I know! You have adorable toes!” They had reached the end of the midway and were at the far end of the boardwalk proper, old booths and small outbuildings crumbling with age and sprinkled with old flyers and spray paint. “Watch your step,” she said, letting go of his hand as she began to climb down a rickety old wooden staircase that had once been chained off. The remains of a keep-out sign served as a doormat at the bottom.

Greg gingerly picked his way down the steps, joining Molly on the sand and raised an eyebrow in askance. “Why here? We could’ve used the other steps, down at the nicer part of the beach.”

“Mmm, not for this.” She looped her arms around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss. He made a noise of surprise but, after a moment, parted his lips for her insistent tongue. He felt her smile against him and he couldn’t help but smile in return. All too soon, she pulled away and began walking backwards. “When I was a teenager, I never had anybody to go under the boardwalk with,” she said, her smile tinged with a bit of something like regret. She ducked under one of the old support beams and waited for Greg to join her. “Kids would do this all the time, especially as it got dark out. Perfect place to make out without getting caught.”

Greg felt his heart do a funny flutter as Molly dropped down to the sand and leaned back on her elbows. The light-up flowers were at a rakish angle in her hair and she was flushed with the sun and the joy of the day. Toeing the bright purple rabbit at her side out of the way, Greg knelt beside her and reached to push a lock of hair behind one of her ears. “Make out, huh? Is that what you lured me down here to do, Doctor Hooper?”

“That’s me, Doctor Molly Hooper. Upstanding member of the British medical community and wanton seductress of Detective Inspectors.” She raised a brow then, mimicking his earlier gesture. “Like this better than the faerie floss?”

“So far, so good.” He leaned in for a kiss then, sinking into the sensation of her mouth, her lips parting for him, her hand coming up to his jaw as the embrace deepened. He found himself pulled half on top of Molly as she laid back on a mound of sand, one of her legs sliding over his, the feel of her bare, smooth skin against his own hair-roughened calf sending a jolt of desire straight to his groin. Hands slid down arms, tugged at clothes, and before many minutes had passed, Greg had a double handful of Molly’s breasts. She pressed her mouth to his shoulder, stifling a small moan as he rolled her turgid nipples between his fingers, glad for the sound of the waves and the cries of children and music on the boardwalk that muffled his own groan. “I have to taste you, Mols,” he rasped, sliding somewhat awkwardly down to capture one dusky peak between his lips.

Molly couldn’t help it; she arched up with a soft, keening cry as Greg scraped his teeth lightly across her sensitive flesh. Letting her legs fall open, she captured his free hand and guided it to her inner thigh. He huffed a laugh against her skin and let his fingers move higher, pressing against her arousal through the material of her shorts and knickers.

Greg wiggled his fingers beneath the hem of Molly’s shorts, finding where she was wet, parting the folds of her sex carefully as he moved to kiss her other nipple, to lave it and suck on it as she undulated slowly beneath him, her breathless litany of nonsense syllables mingling with his name. He sighed in frustration and satisfaction as he sank his middle finger into her, his thumb pressing hard against the pearl of flesh at the apex of her sex. Movement limited by her clothing, he managed a slow, short stroking rhythm that had he panting, her thigh deliberately pressing against the thick ridge of his erection. Her body tightened around his touch, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps as her head fell back and her own fingers tangled in his short hair, pushing his mouth more firmly against her breast. His cock was leaking freely as he rutted against like a fifth-former on his first date. The scent of her teased his senses, mixing with the ocean air and the lingering aroma of faerie floss and cherry soda and, Greg decided then and there, that New Jersey was possibly one of his favorite places. Molly came apart under his touched, her sharp cry echoing off the old boardwalk above them as her body shuddered and spasmed, her hands batting his away, her flesh oversensitive in the wake of release. He pulled away, licking his wet fingers obscenely and grinning at her dark blush. “That,” he said, voice thick and heavy, “was far more fun than the game booths.”

“I think,” Molly breathed, her hand sliding down his stomach to grip at his still-burgeoning arousal, “turnabout is fair play”

“Um, mam, mind putting your hands where we can see them?”

 **One week later...**

“Sir?” Sally Donovan stuck her head around Greg’s door. “There’s a Sergeant Riley on the phone from New Jersey State Police... He wants to know if you’re going to show up for your public indecency hearing, or just mail in the fine?”


End file.
